


i don't want the right to be rude; i just want the right to be cool

by blueandbrady



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueandbrady/pseuds/blueandbrady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's the kid pretending he's an adult, and Nick's the adult pretending he's still a kid. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i don't want the right to be rude; i just want the right to be cool

**Author's Note:**

> Harry is 17 in this. He's legal in the country the story is based, so that's why I didn't click the underage warning, but heads up for those who might have a problem with that. 
> 
> All errors are mine, and I am not British.

Seventeen is not what Harry expected it to be. Granted, it's only been a week, but he was hoping for some sort of immediate change, some excitement maybe. It's not eighteen or twenty but it's not sixteen anymore either. He’s ready to experience _things_. Stuff. Life. 

Short of that, this house party Will has brought him to isn't so bad, though. They're away from home, and it's a party full of proper uni students, not like back home where there are only a handful like someone picked up a pepper pot of uni kids thinking it's a salt pot of sixth formers and saying _oh bugger_ and setting it back down after a splash. 

Harry bought the outfit he's wearing right now a couple days ago specifically for tonight, hoping he'll blend in more. He's never been particularly cool, always having to try quite hard. He's hoping the new, black Ramones T-shirt and tighter-than-usual jeans will make people overlook the roundness of his cheeks that still won't go away. He keeps growing and everything aches but his face is a dead giveaway to how old he isn't. 

"Here. It's shit beer, but what do you expect," Will says, appearing on his left and handing him a red plastic cup.

"Thanks," Harry says. "Do you actually know anyone here or --?"

"Somewhere, but first I think that girl over there might just be drunk enough to think I'm hot," he says, pointing to a girl by the window. Harry sighs. He doesn't really like being left alone when he doesn't know anyone. Will elbows him and raises an eyebrow. "Why don't you find a bloke to talk to," he says meaningfully. "We're two hours from home."

Harry looks away, taking a sip of the dodgy liquid masquerading as beer. Maybe. Tonight he _is_ faux uni student Harry Styles: Cool Kid, not Holmes Chapel Harry: charmer and great with mums. "Maybe," he says because Will is still staring at him seriously.

"Try," Will says, and squeezes his shoulder. "Alright, wish me luck."

"Good luck," Harry says.

He watches as Will approaches the girl by the window, and when she smiles and Will ducks his head, Harry figures he’s not coming back right away. 

The beer really is shit, and Harry’s not much for drinking anyway, so he sets it down and starts wandering. Everyone is very obviously much older than he is and there appears to be a uniform of skinny jeans and mismatched clothes from decades he’s only seen films about. There are band tees everywhere, though, so maybe he’s pulling it off. Hopefully.

Finally he sees a tall table with an iPod dock and an old stereo, tangled cords leading away. The music people. Those are the ones he could possibly talk to. He knows music. 

Well, he can kind of sing and he _wants_ to know music, so same thing really. 

"Hey," Harry says to a girl with bright orange hair. She's standing next to the table.

She looks over at the sound of his voice and arches a sharply drawn on brow, like she's waiting for him to tell her what he wants. When he just blinks, she rolls her eyes. "What's your request?"

Oh, right. "Oh, um, nothing. Just listening. What is this?"

"Purple Crush," she says dismissively, and Harry nods, like that means something.

What starts playing next is not that and it takes Harry a moment to realize it's a Britney Spears remix. Well, no playlist is perfect.

"Jesus Christ, I go to the bathroom for two bloody minutes and I come back to this."

Harry follows the voice to a tall, thin guy with an impressive quiff and sharp, defined features. He's wearing a leather jacket and skin tight jeans and his voice has a Northern lilt to it like Harry’s own and his _hands_. Harry swallows hard. 

"Britney Spears, Hens?" the guy says, addressing someone on the other side of the table. "And where were you, Aimee?"

Aimee, the orange haired girl, shrugs. Quiff Guy huffs and then turns his attention to the iPod just as quickly. Harry can't stop staring at him. His leather jacket looks worn in and the converse at the bottom of his skinny jeans have doodles on them. It's as if he's straight out of Harry's imagination.

The Britney Spears song ends and when Harry hears the opening bars of the next song, he lights up and says, "I love this song!"

Quiff Guy looks over at Harry like he's just now seeing him, which he probably is. He starts to smile then quickly schools his face blank. "You know who this is?"

"Yeah," Harry says, nodding. He doesn't mention that the only reason he does is because his sister played him this song a few weeks ago. If he were cool, he'd know about them all on his own. He is cool tonight.

"Hmm." Quiff Guy steps around Aimee and holds out a hand. "I'm Nick."

Aimee snorts and takes a step back. "Jail is a real place, Nick," she says.

Nick ignores her, so Harry does too, not in on the joke. They must be good friends.

"I'm Harry," Harry says, and lets Nick's hand engulf his in a firm shake. Harry's hands are pretty big, and he's already taller than most of his friends, but Nick is bigger than him by a few inches. Harry blinks up at him and decides he likes it.

"So, Harry," Nick says, not letting go of Harry's hand right away, "are you a member of this fine establishment?"

Harry looks around before remembering he's at a uni house party and realizes Nick's asking him if he's a student. "Oh, um, no," he says, not sure what to say exactly. He's a terrible liar but doesn't really want to say he's in sixth form. Nick is really hot and he's looking at Harry like he's someone he wants to talk with, not down to.

Aimee laughs and Nick reaches back behind himself blindly and smacks her.

"Never mind that," Nick says, and finally lets go of Harry's hand only to move it to the small of his back. "Let's go somewhere quieter. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this album."

"Okay," Harry agrees easily. His stomach swoops when he realizes Nick's directing him upstairs and not outside. It doesn't mean anything for certain, but Harry's hoping the hand still on his back means at least maybe.

Nick lets Harry into a room on the right and is pressing him back against the closed door before it's even fully shut. Harry feels lips brush against his, so he closes his eyes and kisses back.

"Sorry, sorry," Nick says, stopping it just as quickly as it started. "I know I said talk, but _fuck_ , look at you." He takes a small step back. 

"It's fine." Harry curls his hand around a prominent hipbone to drag him back in. "This is fine." Much better than fine. No complaints here.

Nick kisses him again, but it's light and soft and only for a moment before Nick is pulling away again, shaking his head. "No, I can't. I’ve apparently acquired morals somewhere, so I have to ask." 

Harry kisses Nick again. His lips are soft and he smells of really nice cologne, and Harry would like to enjoy this for just another minute if he's about to get the boot. 

"I'm seventeen," Harry says and leans back against the door.

"Ah," Nick says. He bites his lip and reaches out, pushing some of Harry's curls out of his face. "I was hoping for a young looking nineteen."

"Sorry," Harry says. He tries not to look too disappointed. This was something at least. Before he realizes he's doing it, he's reached out and flattened a hand against Nick's chest, palm spread flat over a picture of Dr. Dre. He cups Nick's face with his other hand and rubs his thumb over the slight stubble on his jaw.

Nick releases a shaky breath and leans into Harry's hand. "Seventeen _is_ over sixteen, though."

"Yeah," Harry agrees. The longer he stares at Nick, the more he wants to ask how old _he_ is, but knows better not to. He's got to be five years older, if not more. "All legal."

Nick laughs and presses a thumb to Harry's mouth, tugging down his bottom lip. "Maybe you are, but there's no way this mouth is."

Harry grins. He's pretty used to the mouth comments. Usually it's girls telling him he has nice lips or that they're soft or Will telling him it's too big, but he's not used to the look that accompanies Nick's words. Nick looks like he wants to devour him.

"If there's a Hell, I'm already going there," Nick mumbles, and then they're kissing again, harder and wetter than before, and Harry moans into it, fingers scrabbling for Nick's shoulders. He shrugs out of the leather jacket without breaking the kiss or slowing down. 

Harry's kissed loads of people, some quite a few years older than himself, but none of them prepared him for this. Nick knows how to kiss, like really knows, and Harry feels like he's on fire, waves of heat crashing into him like a particularly violent tide each time Nick's tongue touches his. Harry breathes through his nose and lets Nick tilt his head where he wants it. 

"Wanna take this off?" Nick asks, fingers playing with the hem of Harry's shirt.

"Yes," he says and doesn't pay attention to where Nick tosses it once it's off. His hands go to Nick's shirt as soon as they're free and Nick raises his arms easily.

Nick has hair on his chest, a lot of it, and it makes Harry wonder again how old he is. Instead he reaches out and runs his fingers through it.

Nick threads his fingers through Harry's and tugs his hand down. "I can put my shirt back on if it's going to be a problem," he says.

"No," says Harry, smiling up at Nick. "I like it."

"Well, then," Nick says and turns them around, dropping his other hand to unbutton and unzip Harry's jeans. He slides his hand inside and cups Harry through his pants. "Oh," he says, a little breathless and surprised.

"Yeah," says Harry, trying not to blush. It's just his cock, but it keeps growing with the rest of him and people can't help but focus on it. Harry tugs on Nick's jeans, popping the button. "You, too."

Nick drags the zip down enough to where Harry can make out the outline of Nick's cock through his pants and see the tip pushing out above the waistband, but then he stops. "That'll keep," he says, moving his hands to Harry's waist and pushing until Harry gets the hint and sits down, Nick folding to his knees in front of him on the floor. “I want this now." He hunches forward and sucks the tip of Harry's cock into his mouth.

Harry gasps and his fingers tangle in the sheets under him. Nick's got his pants pulled down more, snug under Harry's ball and he's sucking Harry down, head bobbing fast, a couple fingers in a tight ring around the base. "Oh, god," Harry moans, not caring. Nick's enthusiastic and it's so wet and the rhythm is steady and _practiced_. Harry moans again and tightens his fingers in the sheets, stomach clenching. 

Nick's eyes meet Harry's briefly before he sucks him harder, taking more in and moaning around him like he's getting off on having Harry's cock in his mouth and when Harry makes a strangled sound from the back of his throat, laugh lines appear around Nick’s eyes. 

It's not like he wants it to end just as it begins but he is just seventeen and Nick's mouth is probably the best mouth ever, and Harry doesn't stand a chance. Especially not when he looks down and sees Nick has his own cock out and is stroking it to the same rhythm he's set on Harry.

"Nick," says Harry, letting go of the sheet and squeezing Nick's shoulder instead. "I'm gonna --"

Nick runs his hands up and down Harry’s thighs, and there are loud, wet noises audible even over the muffled music of the party but it all becomes white static as Harry throws his head back and groans, low and drawn-out. It feels like it never ends and Nick doesn't stop sucking until Harry whines and pushes him back a little.

Nick looks smug as he sits back on his knees and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, licking away the last of Harry's come clinging to the corners of his mouth. He's still lazily stroking himself with his other hand.

He's still trying to get air back into his lungs and see straight but he asks anyway, “Can I -- do you want help?" gesturing to Nick's lap.

Nick shakes his head and pushes at Harry's knees, spreading his thighs a bit, pants and trousers still in the way and making stretching out difficult. "Just lie back and let me have a good look at you, yeah?"

Harry nods and leans back on his elbows. No one's ever just wanted to look at him. Normally he'd be a little self conscious over the bit of stomach that is refusing to go away, but there is nothing in Nick's face to make Harry feel anything but hot and _wanted_.

Nick groans and then he's rising, crawling over Harry on the bed and fisting himself roughly, all rhythm gone. Harry takes advantage of Nick's closed eyes and presses their lips together, biting at Nick's bottom lip like he did earlier and then swallowing down his groan.

They're still kissing as Nick comes, and it should be gross to have someone else's come streaked all across his stomach, but Harry can't find it in himself to mind. He thinks he might like it, actually, and runs a finger through it.

Nick groans and pins Harry's hands down. He looks tired and his quiff is droopy. Harry blows on it, watching it bounce.

When Nick sits up, he gives Harry a lopsided grin and then rolls his eyes. "We didn't even get our trousers off. No one told me teenager was catching."

“Heyyy,” Harry says, shaking his head. "You wanted at my cock too bad to wait."

Nick blinks, and then laughs, loud and genuine. “Touche.” 

Harry smiles, pleased with himself.

"As much as I don't want to move, I need to get back down to my DJ duties. The party is probably in total chaos. A musical travesty. Do you hear this rubbish?”

Harry smiles, listening. There's something about the way he talks that Harry likes, more than just his voice, which is nice too. "Okay."

“Okay,” Nick repeats, and then he’s pulling his pants and trousers back up, grabbing his shirt off the floor. Harry follows his lead, only feeling a little bad for wiping his stomach off with a corner of the sheet. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Nick hesitates. "Do you have to go right away?" he asks, and Harry shakes his head. "We never got to talk. How do you feel about ‘Shadows’ by Warpaint?"

"Dunno if I know it." 

Nick hmms and looks around, then taps the guy he called Hens earlier on the shoulder. "Take over. I need my iPod."

"Ohh," Hens says, grinning and rubbing his hands together. 

Nick rolls his eyes and pulls a pair of earphones out of his pocket, handing them to Harry. "Come with me," he says, jerking his head toward the back door. Harry follows him out onto the crowded back porch and huddles close, accepting the earbud Nick hands him.

If Harry were intrigued by the way Nick spoke before, he's mesmerized now. He lights up, eyes wild and hands as integral to getting his point across as his words. He tells long, drawn-out stories about the first time he heard each song and Harry gets it, gets why he loves these songs, and Harry’s envious and in awe all at once. _Nick_ is what cool looks and sounds like. 

"Wait, go back," says Harry, taking Nick's iPod and dragging the song back 30 seconds. "I like this line.”

Nick squawks and yanks the iPod back. "You can't just take another man's iPod, young Harold," he says. He's clearly trying to appear serious and firm but it isn’t working, so Harry smiles bigger. So cool. "You have so much to learn." 

"Are you offering to teach me?" Harry asks, keeping his voice even but still smiling. He uses this move all the time. 

Nick gives him a severely obvious once over. "Definitely."

Harry laughs and steals the iPod again, just to hear Nick tell him to stop that; he’s trying to _educate_ him. The next song starts playing, something slow and melancholic that Harry likes instantly and he opens his mouth to say just that when Nick’s finger fits itself under Harry’s chin and brings him in for a kiss. 

The music keeps playing like it’s a song layered over the end credits for Harry’s very own coming-of-age film where there’s strife and grief and eventually triumph in the form of love for the protagonist. Harry thinks he’d make a pretty boring protagonist and he isn’t going to call this love, but on the upside, seventeen really isn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs I enjoyed while writing this were:  
> \- "Marry Me" by Purple Crush  
> \- "Anyone" by Moving Units  
> \- "Shadows" by Warpaint  
> \- "Not In Love" by Crystal Castles  
> \- "Mind Control" by Friends (also the source of the title)  
> \- "Running" by Jessie Ware


End file.
